Test of Loyalty
by Rathias
Summary: Cabin fever has set in - and the relationship between Miranda and Shepard is starting to strain. An interesting offer comes forth to Miranda - and she will ultimately have to choose between the man she loves - and a higher purpose.
1. Chapter 1

Commander Shepard never used to have trouble sleeping, but ever since he and his team had destroyed the Collector base, losing two friends in the process, he found that he spent most of the night tossing and turning unless he was completely worn out. Most nights, Miranda helped him with that problem, especially since she had moved into his quarters. On nights like tonight, however, he found the empty space beside him disconcerting and wished she wasn't so invested in her work. After an hour of staring at the ceiling, with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him, Shepard finally gave up and rolled out of bed.

As he dressed himself, he glanced at the picture that sat on Miranda's bedside table. It was one of the few sentimental items Miranda had ever allowed herself to keep, though he noticed she was gradually opening up in that regard. He couldn't contain a smile as he thought about the moment that had been captured in that frame.

The crew had thrown a surprise party for Miranda's "birthday" since she had never celebrated it before. In the picture, Shepard and Miranda shared a stolen kiss, smiles on their faces, in the midst of friends.

"You better be careful," he had told her when she placed the picture there. "If you're not, you might actually turn into a real girl."

She had laughed at him, clearly getting the reference to the old Earth fairytale, Pinocchio. It had been a good moment.

As he headed for the door, his smile faded. They hadn't been having as many of those lately.

* * *

Shepard leaned against the back of the elevator with his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for the lift to reach its destination. He wore the expression of a man deeply troubled. As Captain of the Normandy, his thoughts should have been upon what he was about to do, but instead his mind was focused on Miranda… and their latest argument.

It had been months since their ordeal with Corporal Toombs and since then, things had been relatively quiet. At first, the thought of a little quiet time seemed like a dream come true for Shepard. However, after a few of the longest weeks spent scanning and probing planets, Shepard and his crew had grown restless. Their stagnant condition seemed to directly affect his relationship with Miranda, as well. It was only natural, he reasoned. They both had spent the better part of their lives in the midst of something bigger than themselves. In Shepard's case, he had lived in battle, fighting for a greater cause. As for Miranda, she had been "engineered for greatness", as she put it. Sitting around on a starship waiting for data to be decrypted and analyzed was not for either of them, and it showed.

Their restlessness had turned to agitation which had grown into frustration which, inevitably, was something that they had begun taking out on one another in small doses. Shepard needed to change things up, for his crew's sake, but also for his own. He loved Miranda more than anything, but if they didn't take some time away from the ship soon, they would tear each other apart, and they both knew it.

Reliving their last dispute in his head, Shepard put his fingers to his temples in an attempt to rub the memory away. He closed his eyes and found himself back in their quarters.

"You're a Spectre. For god's sake, Shepard, act like it!" Miranda paced in front of the aquarium, clearly agitated.

Shepard sat on the bed, his head in his hands. He looked at her in frustration, "That doesn't mean I can fly across the galaxy doing whatever the hell I like!"

She glared at him, "That's _exactly_ what it means, actually."

Shepard was tired of this argument. He was tired of arguing with her, period. He would give her nearly anything she wanted, but he wasn't going to run off on dangerous missions they had no reliable Intel on.

Speaking slowly and enunciating every word, he replied, "That doesn't mean we _should_. I'm not going to endanger the lives of everyone in this crew just because you're bored, Miranda."

Hurt by his accusation, Shepard watched as all emotion left her face. He knew then that she had thrown up her impenetrable wall and instantly he regretted such a childish remark.

She turned to leave, never once facing him as she spoke, her voice without a trace of emotion, "Right. I have a lot of work to catch up on. If you need me for anything, I'll be in my office tonight." With that, she vanished through the door.

Shepard cursed under his breath.

"_Who are we becoming?_" he thought desperately.

He stood and walked over to his desk, taking out a vintage crystal drink decanter. Anderson had given it to him as a gift upon their return from the Collector base. It was from the mid-1900s, which meant it was very rare and very valuable. He poured himself a glass of ryncol and immediately tipped it down his throat before refilling his glass. After staring at it for a moment, he gulped it down as well. Just as he was about to fill the glass again, the picture on Miranda's nightstand caught his eye. He froze as he stared at himself and Miranda.

"_We were happy then… weren't we?_" His thoughts became muddled and the truth hard to discern, "_Are we falling apart? Did I fuck this up? Did she let me in… only for me to push her away?_"

"Damnit!," he yelled, furious with himself and their situation as he turned and threw his glass against the wall, shattering the antique into hundreds of tiny pieces. He ran his hands over his head as he sat on the bed and fell onto his back. He put his hand on her side of the bed, painfully aware of her absence before getting to his feet to clean up the mess he had made.

As Shepard sensed the elevator reaching its destination, he opened his eyes, snapping back to the present. His face transformed into the stoic Commander's once more. The movement finally stopped and the door hissed open revealing a crowd of people filling the CIC. As they noticed Shepard's arrival, the murmurs of the crew died down, the recognizable voice of Yeomen Chambers yelled the call to attention, and the crew snapped to.

Shepard walked forward, looking at the faces that surrounded him. As he stood on the platform and looked out, he realized Miranda wasn't among them. He had informed her earlier what he'd intended to do, but he didn't anticipate her absence. Catching himself as he felt a frown pull at his mouth, he cleared his throat, responded to the salute, and began;

"At ease. Most of you are probably wondering why I called you here," he began, his eyes going from crew member to crew member. Judging by the slightly confused expression on their faces, he was right, "It's been a long few months since the events through the Omega-4 relay. While I do appreciate the hard work each and every one of you has put in since we came back home… the old saying 'All work and no play' comes to mind right now…"

Hushed excited whispers began circulating through the crowd. Shepard looked up at Joker, who was standing at the stairs leading to the cockpit, a smirk on his face, "As most of you are probably already guessing – I'm ordering you all to take a two-week leave. We lost some good men and woman in our mission – and I'm sure most of you would like to get back to your families to be with them, and celebrate our success."

Shepard's eyes immediately when to Crewman Rolston, whose body was slumped with relief, an excited expression on his face knowing he'd be able to go visit his family in San Francisco. Rolston looked up at Shepard, mouthed thank you, and turned his gaze towards Crewman Patel, who whispered some words of joy into his ear.

"You've earned this time off, ladies and gentlemen – and I want each and every one of you to make the most of it. You have two weeks to enjoy yourself absolutely – those of you who desire to stay are more than welcome," Shepard pushed himself up and snapped to attention – the crew responding in turn. "Enjoy yourselves, crew – I'll see you all when you get back. Dismissed!"

The CIC erupted in cheering and celebrations as Shepard turned and headed back into the elevator. As the doors hummed close, Shepard allowed himself a small smile before pushing the button that would send him to the third floor – where his heart was waiting.


	2. Chapter 2

Miranda stared at her terminal, rubbing her temple with her forefingers as she tried to focus on the report she was writing. Frustrated that the headache pulsing through her skull wasn't going away, she got up from her desk and walked over to her bed. Flopping down onto it, she buried her face in one of the pillows.

It was a meaningless report – one that she was only writing up to occupy herself and keep her from realizing just how truly bored she was. This wasn't what she expected when she had resigned from Cerberus. She had thought that she and Shepard would be flying around the universe, taking preventative action in preparation of the oncoming Reaper invasion, but after weeks of nothing but searching for minerals and anomalies on planets, she couldn't handle it anymore. They hadn't encountered one distress call. They hadn't come across any reliable Intel that would lead to any kind of mission. Admiral Hackett hadn't even contacted them in months.

'_Is this still worth it?'_ She thought to herself as she turned her head slightly to gaze out of the viewport in her office. _'Was quitting Cerberus really worth it?'_

She propped herself up on her elbows, toying with her hands as the thought entered her mind. _'I've been on this ship for months now with nothing to do. This isn't what I wanted. I should be doing something bigger than this – it's what I was… made for. Not squandering my gifts by drifting around the universe probing planets.'_

A loud ping from her terminal broke her from her angry thoughts – and the prospect of it being a lead to something interesting and exciting filled her. As she got up from her bed and rushed over to her computer, her heart sunk when she realized that it was an email from Shepard;

* * *

To:

From: Shepard.N7

Subject: Crew Leave

Miranda,

I know things have been… stale lately. This hasn't been easy on any of us. But I think I've come up with a solution; one that will help crew morale, as well as our sanity. I'm sure most of the crew is feeling the same way you and I are, so I'm going to call a meeting to suggest everyone take a two week vacation, to do whatever it is they please. As standing XO, I'd like you to be there.

As my better half, I wish for you to be there.

I'll be calling them together soon – see you in the CIC.

Love,

Shepard.

* * *

Her eyes remained on the screen long after she had finished reading. She wanted to be there for the crew - and Shepard – but something inside of her was holding her back. She was scared of the direction they were heading in and worried that showing any more vulnerability right now would only hurt them both later on.

Sighing, Miranda returned to the bed and laid back down, turning so that she was lying on her side. Her eyes glossed over the room, eventually settling on a small paint stain in the corner. As her father's heir, she had been trained by the best private tutors in every field, but her favorite subject matter had been the arts. As a genetically altered human, she had been created to be the best at everything, leaving little room for her to grow or establish herself as an individual. In art, however, she found she could flourish while differentiating herself from anyone else. Each stroke of a paintbrush could be interpreted in a thousand different ways. Every "flaw" could be made into something beautiful and unique. It was the only thing Miranda had ever encountered that actually encouraged her to put even the bad pieces of herself into. For every painting, she had to fight her natural urge to fix every mistake. She had to struggle to find a harmony between imperfection and the "ideal" she held in her head. In time, she actually found that her most imperfect pieces, the ones that held the most of her own personal discord and sorrow, were the ones held most highly in esteem among anyone who saw them.

She had shared this with Shepard one night as they lay in bed talking. She could see from the glimmer in his eyes as she spoke that he loved seeing this side to her, and knowing that made Miranda feel exceptional in a way she never had before. For that, she loved him even more.

She hadn't put much thought to that discussion until later when, on her birthday, he presented her with an easel and a collection of paints and brushes.

"I love your imperfections just as much as the rest of you," he had told her. "And I want you to be able to appreciate those parts of yourself, as well." He had pulled her close then and stroked her face with his right hand as he watched her eyes fill with tears. "So paint your deficiencies and flaws - and we can admire them together."

The memory of that moment stole all breath from her lungs. She sat up and tried to put on her unfeeling demeanor once more… but failed. She was finding that harder to do each day and was scared of what it meant.

"I'm sorry, Shepard," she whispered to herself.

'_Now if only I could tell you that in person,_' she thought miserably.

Composing herself once more, she stood and returned to her desk, intent on distracting herself from the pinpricks of pain she was causing her heart - her Shepard.

As her attention returned briefly to the report in front of her, the sudden sound of cheering and laughter from above her made her realize that Shepard had gone ahead with his plan – and that she had missed it. He had pleaded for her to be there – and she wasn't. The sudden pang in her heart caused her to lose composure, but she pushed it away – had to. If she didn't begin to rebuild that wall that had protected her all those years, she would lose herself – who she truly was. She was a woman bred for perfection – and she wasn't going to let herself forget that.

She drowned out the sounds with her typing, focusing purely on the report and nothing else. But as the sounds grew louder and louder, she found it a lot more difficult to remain focused. The headache returned once more, pulsing harder than before. She let out a sigh of anger, once again bringing her right hand up to massage her temple, trying to get it to go away.


	3. Chapter 3

Shepard stepped out of the elevator onto the Crew deck, the aroma of Mess Sergeant Gardner's grilled chicken from last evening still lingered in the air – finding its way into Shepard's nose, causing his stomach to yell out in desire as he looked into the Mess Hall.

The place was in full motion – most of the crew members were discussing their plans with one another as they packed their belongings. The bustle brought a smile to Shepard's face – a feeling of pride swelled in his chest as he saw smiles on his crew's faces once more – reaffirming his belief that this was a break they desperately needed.

Taking a moment to watch them walk around and talk, Shepard leaned against one of the walls – and began observing. His eyes first came to Crewman Hawthorne and Goldstein, the pair who constantly poked fun of Gardner for his cooking.

Goldstein was planning on going to visit Earth, claiming she had some relatives there she hadn't seen in quite some time. Hawthorne, with his arm still in a sling from his injuries sustained when he tried to protect Joker, awkwardly asked if she would like some company. Goldstein nudged him slightly, a smile on her face – accepting his offer. Shepard let out a small laugh as he watched Hawthorne enjoy his small personal victory.

Mess Sergeant Gardner planned on staying on the Citadel – claiming he'd like to find more supplies to make more extravagant meals for the crew, as well as a new set of tools – having somehow misplaced his on the engineering deck. The tech sergeant he was talking with let out a laugh, making a sarcastic comment about how a handyman lost his tools. Gardner, a fan of only his own sarcasm, responded angrily – telling the sergeant that he'd better watch his next meal.

It was Chakwas herself that came up to Shepard personally. She had snuck up behind him, giving him a slight nudge to alert him that she was there. As he turned, a smile came onto his face.

"And where might you be going, Dr.?" He asked, crossing his arms.

Resetting her luggage on her shoulder, she shrugged, "I honestly don't know, Shepard. I suppose I might go visit Eden Prime… and pay tribute to Jenkins."

The smile faded from Shepard's face as he remembered the once lively Corporal. It had been years since the events of Eden Prime, but the memory of Jenkins still held firm in Shepard's mind.

"Give my regards," he said solemnly, embracing Chakwas.

Chakwas pulled away slowly and smiled, a small pool of tears began to flood her eyes. She quickly realized that she had begun to cry, and wiping away at her eye, she smirked, "And yourself, Commander? Where would one such as you be going on this little vacation?"

Shepard turned his head slightly, to look over his shoulder at the door leading to Miranda's office. As he returned his gaze to Chakwas, she held up a hand, knowing what he was about to say.

"Just enjoy yourself, Commander," she said, flashing him another bright smile, "We're not like asari. We don't live for a thousand years. Live life to its fullest, Commander."

He gave her a small nod, and they embraced once more, "You take care, Chakwas. Enjoy your trip."

"Oh I will," she said as she pulled away from Shepard, slowly turning to the elevator, "And you yours."

He gave her a slight wave, smiling as she disappeared around the corner. As he turned to begin walking towards Miranda's office, he spotted Garrus appearing from the forward battery chambers, a small pack over his shoulder.

"Garrus!" He exclaimed, the sight of his best friend lightening his mood. He cocked a brow in curiosity as they neared one another, giving each other a firm handshake as they met, "And where might you be off to?"

Garrus dropped his pack to the ground, unzipping it quickly. He withdrew from it a small data pad and handed it to Shepard, "Remember that turian captain I told you I uh… blew off some steam with?"

Shepard, after reading over the contents of the data pad, let out a laugh, "Oh, yes."

"Well, turns out she's going to be on Palaven for a couple of days and she uh… wants to get together."

Shepard couldn't contain himself, and doubled over with laughter, "Haha… let me guess… going to uh… savor the last shot, eh? Pop a heat sink, maybe? Hahaha!"

Garrus punched Shepard in the shoulder, causing the Commander to laugh harder, "Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing, Shepard." A smirk appeared on the turian's face as he ripped the data pad back from Shepard.

Finally recomposing himself, Shepard tried hard not to laugh – but the straight face that his good friend was giving him caused him to break out laughing again, "Okay, okay… haha… I'm done, I promise."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever – and what are _your_ plans Shepard?" Garrus asked, crossing his arms and raising a brow at the Commander.

Brushing the tears of laughter from his eyes, Shepard shrugged, "I don't know yet."

"You and Miranda aren't doing anything?"

Another shrug.

Garrus nodded slightly, "Well – hope you enjoy these two weeks, Shepard. If anyone needs this break – it's you."

"Thanks Garrus – you have fun, and take care of yourself."

They embraced like brothers, patting each other on the back. Garrus gave Shepard one last nod before picking up his pack and walking for the elevator. As he watched his friend go, Shepard at last turned towards Miranda's office – the smile from his conversation with his friend fading as the realization that he would need to confront-

'_No,'_ he thought,_ 'Not confront. Talk – like adults.'_

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he casually strode over to her door, shutting out everything – and focusing his mind purely on what he was going to say to Miranda. A lot of different approaches rushed to the forefront – should he start pondering why she wasn't at the meeting? Open with an apology? Should he ask how she is? What has she been up to?

He sighed heavily as he reached the door. _'Whatever I ask… I just hope it's enough,'_ he thought as he knocked on the door.

Her elegant voice sounded out from the inside, "Come in."


	4. Chapter 4

Miranda looked up from her computer terminal to see who was standing at the doorway. As he entered, she was surprised to see that it was Shepard. She couldn't remember the last time he had knocked on her door before entering, if ever. Upon seeing her, he smiled, but it was an awkward, strained smile, not the confidant, charming one he usual gave her. She returned one similar.

"So, the crew seems pretty excited about their leave," he commented, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked over to the viewport, his eyes scanning the Citadel's wings.

"I've noticed," she said as she focused her attention on the terminal once more, "You made the right call, I think."

Shepard turned his head slightly, "I hope so. The entire crew seems to be excited about the deal." He crossed his arms, letting out a heavy sigh, "They deserve a break after all we've been through."

Miranda's hummed 'yes' was drowned out by her typing, her eyes not even leaving the screen as her fingers danced across the keyboard. Shepard's eyes fell to the floor before he turned his head back towards the viewport. The lights of the Citadel reminded him of the first 'official' date they went on. He recalled when they entered the Omega nightclub, Afterlife, its bright lights flashing across the ceiling in a dazzling brilliance. He recalled turning to look at Miranda, and seeing her smile make the rest of the place look dim. He remembered those days vividly – and wished things were as it was back then.

The memory caused a displeased expression to mar his features. He turned and walked around her desk, lightly grabbing her arms as he did - forcing her to stop typing. He kneeled beside her and brought her face in his direction. He wanted to be sure she was looking at him when he said what he needed to say.

"Shepard, I have a lot of w-" Miranda started to protest, knowing full well what he would say, but he cut her off.

"Just let me talk. Please," he pleaded.

Miranda nodded in acknowledgement, biting her tongue as she fought the urge to say what was written all over his face.

"Look," he started, his eyes glancing down to her hands as he moved to grasp them in his. "I know this isn't what we wanted – or expected. All of this inaction, I mean. The Reapers are out there and that's something we should be putting all of our resources into stopping… but without any leads, and no word yet from Admiral Hackett… we've done nothing but trivial things – and that's not something you and I are used to."

"I know it's been hard on us." His eyes began to wander up her arms, eventually resting themselves on her lips as he continued, "We've taken our cabin fever out on one another… the smallest little thing has been setting off an argument between us," he paused, his eyes finally fully fixed on her's. "And I'm sorry for that, Miranda. I'm sorry for all the things I've said to you that have hurt you – that's the last thing I want to do. You're the most important woman in the universe to me… I've had no reason to act the way I have to you."

"Shepa-"

He squeezed her hands gently, "I want to fix us. I think some time away from all of this ourselves would do us good. We could go wherever you want – do whatever you want – I don't care. As long as I spend the next two weeks with you and get to see you smile at me the way you used, I'll be the happiest man alive. I love you, Miranda – and I just want to fix this… fix us," Shepard's thumbs stroked the back of her hands as his eyes fell to her thighs, darting back and forth – trying to figure out if there was anything more he needed to say. When his eyes did come back up to meet Miranda's, there was a sad desperation in his eyes, and it broke her heart to see it.

'_Anywhere, Shepard – let's go, right now, I don't care,'_ was Miranda's first thought, but unable to let her guard down, an entirely different response to left her lips;

"Shepard… I… don't really know if a trip can fix," she paused, her head turning slightly to stop herself from gazing into his eyes before finishing," …this."

The pained expression on his face grew more evident, but with it also came a look of fierce determination, "I'm not going to give up on you, Miranda – and I never will. It'll take a lot more than just cabin fever to make me stop caring about you – to stop loving you." He raised a hand to her chin, turning her face back to his. "Maybe you're right… maybe this won't fix anything. But after all that we've been through, we at least owe each another enough to _try_, don't we?"

'_Yes! Yes, yes, yes…,'_ every bone in her body cried out, but her wall stood – and just like her first response, the words were lost – not able to make it past the knot in her throat.

"Fine," she heard herself reply.

'_What? No! It's not fine! Tell him, damnit! Tell him!'_

"I…" she began, her mind doing the talking that her heart didn't want it to. "I have a lot of work to do before we leave then… as I'm sure you do as well," she pulled her hands free of his, not meeting his eyes once as she turned her gaze back towards her terminal.

Shepard stood, his eyes staring down at the woman he loved. He was discouraged, yes, but he wasn't beaten. As he leaned over and kissed the top of her head, he whispered, "I love you, Miranda Lawson – and I always will."

His hand rested on her shoulder briefly, hoping to hear a response. When none came, he turned and made for the door. His walk was different, Miranda noticed briefly as he left. It was a stature she had only seen once previously – a mix of a man who felt he was on the verge of losing everything, yet desperately trying to prevent it – fighting with every fiber of his being to prevent it from happening.

Seeing that walk caused Miranda's eyes to flood with tears. She put her head in her hands as she began sobbing, realizing that she was shutting out the only man who would ever understand her – the only man who ever appreciated her – and the only man who would ever make her happy.

It was in this state of misery that Miranda's wall finally shattered. Her emotions worn down enough to let out a single whisper, "I love you too, Shepard."


	5. Chapter 5

Shepard sat on the edge of his bed, dressed in a brand new black tux, his jacket laying on his bed next to him. His eyes were glancing over the dossiers of the skeleton crew – the individuals Anderson had assigned to the Normandy while his crew went on leave. Each and every one of them was clean, Anderson had assured him, but Shepard wasn't going to take any risks. As he flipped the pages of each report, the more and more he became uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the Normandy in the hands of complete strangers – but he knew it was something he had to do.

'_Come on, Shepard,'_ he thought to himself, _'You know how important this night is. Just suck it up – and accept it. You'll be back soon enough to keep an eye on the crew yourself.'_

Letting out a sigh, he snapped the reports closed – tossing them across the way onto his coffee table. He brought is hands up to his face, rubbing the drowsiness away from his eyes.

"Commander," Joker's voice echoed through his chambers.

"Joker?" Shepard responded, letting his hands fall between his legs and a curious expression to appear on his face, "I thought I ordered everyone to take a two week vacation. Do you mind explaining to me what you are still doing here?"

"Yeah, well… EDI and I were having this contest on who- ah, forget it. Those replacement crew members have arrived, Shepard, just as you requested. Permission to be blunt, sir?"

"Has me giving my permission ever stopped you before?" Shepard laughed.

"Well, no," Shepard could tell by the subtle change in Joker's tone that he was smirking, "But these guys look like a bunch of crazies, to be honest."

"We? As in EDI and you?"

"Hey.. EDIs a real person… no need to go and hurt her feelings, Shepard."

"I assure you, Jeff, "EDI began, "I am an AI – I have no physic-"

"Sssh!"

Laughing again, Shepard responded, "Alright, alright. Direct them to the CIC and I'll be up shortly."

"Understood, Joker out."

The comm. channel clicked shut. Shepard stood up from his bed, picked up the tux jacket laying next to him, and made his way to the elevator. He brushed himself off as the elevator doors hissed close, recomposing himself before he came before the skeleton crew.

He had a slight feeling that Joker was right – something felt off about this crew, something Shepard couldn't place. His fears of letting this strangers be in the Normandy became even more firm – and if it wasn't for Anderson's approval, he would've told them off immediately.

But, he had to trust Anderson – and had to believe that this feeling only stemmed from the fact that he hadn't worked with anyone new for quite some time.

He smirked, shaking his head slightly, _'I don't even believe that excuse.'_

As the doors to the elevator hummed open, someone called out, "Officer on deck!"

Immediately, the sound of heels clicking and the sharp intakes of breath echoed through the CIC. The replacements had lined up right in front of the galaxy map – six of them in total. One for each area of the ship.

Shepard stepped out of the elevator and returned the salute, "At ease."

The replacements immediately shifted to parade rest – their gazes fixed perfectly ahead.

'_Military,'_ Shepard thought, nodding in approval. His fears were slightly alleviated, though they were still present, _'This should make things a lot smoother then.'_

"You have your orders, I presume?" He voiced, staring each of them over.

"Sir, yes, sir!" They responded in unison.

Shepard took the stance of parade rest, and even though he knew each and every one of their files by heart, he still ordered, "Well, present yourself then."

The furthest soldier to the left stepped forward. He was short asian man – but built and toned, "Service Chief Sidarc, Ethan, sir! Maintenance Replacement!

The next stepped forward - She was medium-sized black woman, toned, with her hair tied into a bun, "Servicewoman Second Class Johnson, Alicia, sir! Engineering replacement!"

Shepard nodded, watching the next man step forward. A short, tan fellow, built similar to Chief Sidarc, "Gunnery Chief Billicks, Phil, sir! Weapons Maintenance – Armory!"

A caucasian man stepped forward next, "Serviceman Second Class Morgan, Chris, sir! Medical Research and Care!"

The final replacement stepped forward, a tall caucasian female, who's dark hair was cut just short of the collar line, "Corporal Smith, Elaine, sir! Scientific Research and Development!"

Shepard nodded in approval, "Good, good – and I believe it's safe to assume that you all know who I am?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Very well. You all know your mission – but I'm going to relay it to you one more time. This in the SR2 Normandy – its current crew is on an ordered leave – its last mission having caused a lot of emotional and physical stress. Your duty is to take care and maintain the ship for the next two weeks – in their absence. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good – I expect nothing but the best from my normal crew and I will expect nothing different from you. I want this place spot clean and running perfect," Shepard nodded slightly, "That is your mission – good luck. Dismissed!"

The replacements snapped to attention and rushed off to their posts. Crossing his arms, Shepard watched them scatter in each direction. A smile came to his face as he was reminded of his days in the enlisted ranks – before he earned his commission.

The hum of the doors opening up behind up broke him from nostalgia.


	6. Chapter 6

Miranda raised her head as the elevator doors hummed open – finding herself staring at Shepard. She could tell he was taken aback by her by the way his eyes glimmered and his mouth hung agape. She was wearing a light blue dress, it ending just below her knees. As she adjusted the spaghetti strap hanging over her left shoulder, her gaze fell back to the floor.

"What?" She questioned Shepard insecurely, shifting her stance to an uncomfortable one. She was the most confidant woman in the galaxy – with good reason – but when Shepard's eyes glimmered like that, she always fell into that same feeling of nervousness – similar to when they had their first date.

Shepard shook his head, trying to get out of the daze he was in. He responded, slowly – and unsure of what to say, "You… uh, look amazing, Miranda," he paused, staring at her grayish-blue eyes, "Better than amazing… You look beautiful."

She blushed, and when Shepard held out his hand in an invitation, she hesitated briefly – she wasn't sure why, but she did. Eventually taking his hand after a couple of seconds, she flashed him a disarming smile, "Thank you," her eyes scanning his physique as she spoke, recalling just how well Shepard looked in a tux. She smirked, and in a coy, flirtatious tone, replied, "You don't look half bad yourself."

Shepard let out a small laugh as he pulled her closer to him, the lines of his face slowly beginning to show a strong sense of uncertainty as she rested her head against his chest.

'_He's afraid to even touch me,'_ she thought, watching as his hand hesitated slightly before outlining the curve of her shoulder, ascending to her face. She leaned her head against his rough palm; the feel of his skin sending shivers up her spine, her cheeks pulling her lips into a small smile.

Shepard gently brought her closer, using his hand to draw her face up to his. She stared into his greenish eyes, sensing all kinds of emotions pulsing through his head. She longed for him to kiss her, desperate for his rough lips to connect with hers, to send that feeling of passion coursing through her body.

But it never came. He was hesitating, nervous, and afraid. Qualities she had never seen him so openly show before. It frightened her slightly, but it also reminded her that to him, this night was more important to him than probably the venture through the Omega-4 relay. It was then that she slowly started to understand just how afraid this man was of losing her.

It was either that – she pondered – or the fact that one of the new crewmates, Billicks, had been staring at them for the past 10 minutes. Shepard's gaze turned to the man – who immediately rushed out of sight when his eyes connected with the Commander's.

Resting the side of her face against his chest once more, Miranda listened to the beating of Shepard's heart as she inquired, "You're nervous."

The question caught him off guard slightly, "Nervous? About what?"

"The crew replacements," she looked up at him, "You don't trust them, do you?"

He sighed, looking at the door that the crewmate had just exited through, "I don't. But I trust Anderson – and if he says they are good people, then I believe him."

"Shepard, if you wan-"

"No," he stopped her, his voice turning serious, "I'm not going to let some unfounded fear ruin this night for us. It's too important. You're too important."

She could tell that he wanted to kiss her right then, to convince her how much she meant to him, but she could sense the hesitation.

'_Just do it, Shepard – kiss me, please!'_ Her body pleaded, every bone in her body aching for him to do it. But he wouldn't – and she knew he wouldn't until the moment was right.

He brushed her hair behind her ear, his gaze watching his fingers work, "Do you recall Sha'ira?" He asked in a slightly awkward tone.

She nodded, "The Asari Consort, right? What about her?"

"Well… I really couldn't think of a peaceful place for us to be able to be alone," his eyes met her's, "so I called in a favor with her. I know that most of the people will probably be bugging both of us if we go out walking in the Wards or Presidium, so I asked her if we could use her private chambers for one night. She agreed."

She smiled up at him, "She did, did she? And what can I expect to find in this private chamber?"

Shepard blushed, "Well… uh," he cleared his throat, smirking, "You'll just have to wait and see. It's a surprise."

"Oh, I do love surprises," she said, smiling up at him.

He pulled away from her slowly and held out his arm for her, "Shall we go then?"

She nodded, taking his arm, "Yes, lets."

They walked together, arm and arm out of the Normandy – and into the quiet evening of the Citadel.


	7. Chapter 7

Miranda slowly walked alongside Shepard through the Presidium, weaving in and out of the people they passed. The bright light of the artificial sun shone vividly on the pair – and even though she couldn't feel the warmth of it, she soaked up its brilliance as much as she could. Her gaze turned to Shepard – and she found that he had been staring at the entire time as they walked. He smiled cautiously before speaking;

"You almost forget what daylight is like, don't you?" He asked.

"It's not daylight, not really anyways," she responded automatically. Her eyes traced the artificial skyline as they paused on the bridge between the embassies and consort's chamber, "But yes," she continued, "It's nice to see the sunlight again. It makes me miss Earth, in a way. Being able to step outside and just feel its heat envelop you, comfort you."

Shepard tentatively put his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him, "I'm glad you agreed to this," he said, lifting his right hand up to brush a stray hair away from her forehead, his eyes smoldering as they stared into hers.

"Shepard, I wanted this just as much as you," she replied, her brows furrowed in a slight frustration, "But this… it's hard for me."

Her frustration at the situation grew more evident with each word, as did her fear of pushing away the one thing that she truly cared about. Unable to push him away any longer, the last of her barriers finally shattered. She turned and embraced him, resting her head against his chest – listening to his heart as she strained to finally let out the words she wanted to scream everyday;

"I love you, Shepard."

His heart jumped.

"And that scares me more than anything else I've ever faced," she felt Shepard's hand comb its way through her hair as she spoke, "I've never failed at anything, but things with us haven't been going well and… I can't think of any reason for that other than some failure on my part.."

Shepard brought his hand up to her chin, pulling her head away from his chest and turning it towards him. He shook his head slightly, a pained expression on his face, "Miranda, what's been going on between us is not your fault. We have both made mistakes – but that's how these things work. They're hard and sometimes you have to fight like hell to keep what you love," he brought his face closer to hers, "But I do love you – and I will do whatever it takes to keep you."

Miranda dug her fingers into Shepard's chest, trying her hardest to keep her composure, but it was no use. This man, this human who was thrusted into her life because of his importance to the galaxy – became the most important thing in her galaxy. She finally let go of everything that was separating herself from him as she drew his lips to hers in a heated and passionate moment. Shepard, briefly caught off guard, wasted no time in reciprocating. He pulled her body into his and kissed her like he'd never wanted anything more.

They were still kissing when, on the 20th hour, the artificial sun set on the Presidium, and the glow of the moon appeared in the skyline. They pulled away from one another slowly, a smile on their faces. Shepard was breathless as he gazed over Miranda, the moon amplifying her beauty. Her eyes glimmered in its light.

Miranda turned her head briefly to catch a glimpse of the night sky, and as her gaze returned to Shepard, he caught her in another kiss – his enthusiasm unmistakable. Neither of them could contain their smiles as they embraced – and neither of them wanted to. Finally tearing themselves away from one another, Shepard took her hand and motioned his head towards the Consort's Chambers.

"Are you ready to see your surprise?" He asked, the spark that was once missing in his eyes returning.

Miranda nodded excitedly, giving Shepard's hand a little squeeze as they turned and walked towards the Consort's Chambers. They didn't speak any words as they climbed the steps towards the room – their subtle glances and gestures they shared were saying more about their feelings then any word ever could.

As they stood in front of the Chamber doors, Shepard turned to Miranda, "Okay, I'm going to ask you to do something really old-fashioned and cliché… but close your eyes."

An inquisitive look filled her face, but she acquiesced without a word. Shepard stood behind her, placed his hands on her hips, and guided her into the room. The second Miranda heard the doors hiss open – music entered her ears, but not just any music;

"Is this…?"

"Nielsen's Fifth? Yes, it is," Shepard responded.

"My favorite song… how did y-"

He brought his mouth up to her ear and interrupted, whispering, "Open your eyes."

Miranda opened her eyes slowly, unsure of what she would see. But as she took in the room – a bright smile came to her face, and she covered her mouth with her hands.

The main floor of the room was covered in red and pearl rose petals. The once circular bed that used to be in the chambers was replaced by a four-poster bed, draped in red and white silk. The only light given off was from the candles that sat on the top off the steps that led down to the floor.

'_How much planning did he put in this?'_ she thought with a smile, knowing full-well that this many roses were hard to come by on any planet but Earth.

He took her hand, and giving it a small squeeze, led her to the half-circle couch. Sitting on the small table in front of it, she noticed, sat a wine bottle in a bucket of us – flanked by two wine glasses, and an opaque container. Following her gaze, Shepard gestured at the bottle;

"Cabernet Sauvignon, for the lady," he said with a smirk.

Completely overwhelmed with the quality of the evening, Miranda found herself at a loss for words. She followed Shepard's lead as he sat on the couch, her mouth still agape in the pleasant surprise. Shepard leaned towards the table, removing the bottle from the bucket it was chilling in.

"And not just ANY Cabernet," he began, the sound of personal triumph obvious in his voice, "but the only remaining bottle from the 21st century," he uncorked the bottle as he continued, "Had to call in a few favors to find it but…"

He turned to Miranda, "I know you settle for nothing," he winked, "but the best."

Miranda let out a small laugh, "You certainly do know how to please, Shepard."

He poured a glass and handed it to her before filling his own. Once he had returned the bottle to the ice bucket, he settled back and put his arm on the couch behind Miranda, holding his glass up to toast;

"To us."

"To us," she echoed as she brought the glass up to her lips. She savored its rich scent, and not wanting to waste a single molecule of it, she let the glass linger at her lips a few seconds before finally taking a sip. She couldn't remember the last time she had tasted a wine so delicious and robust.

"Mmm," she murmured, "This is incredible."

'_And not just the wine,'_ the thought passing quickly through her head.

Shepared flashed her a smile before leaning forward and grabbing the opaque container from the table. Curious of its contents, Miranda leaned closer to him as he removed the lid, revealing the most brilliant red strawberries she had ever seen. Miranda smiled in surprise – and aw – at what a truly romantic man her lover was.

"Will you ever cease to amaze me?" She asked deviously.

He let out a laugh, "I hope not."

Slowly, he took out a single strawberry and held it by the stem. Looking at him coyly, she took another ship of her wine. Shepard lifted the strawberry to her lips, absolutely captivated by her as she took a bite, not keeping her eyes off of him. He let out a small laugh and took a sip of his own wine as she chewed.

Miranda fished another strawberry from the container and reversed the roles, feeding it to him this time. She laughed to herself as she flashed him a flirtatious look.

"This is amazing, Shepard," she said softly, sitting herself closer to the man and cuddling next to him.

"I wanted to do something special for you," he answered, "I wanted to do something worthy of you. It still falls short… but…"

"No," she shook her head and gazed up at him, "It's perfect – nothing you do could ever fall short." She brought her hand up and stroked the side of his face.

They looked at each other, not uttering a single word – but letting their eyes do all the talking needed. When they finally broke their trance, they leaned into one another, their lips meeting as their hands found each other and interlaced.

After a moment, their hands unlocked, and Shepard ran his hands slowly down her body, picking her up as she slowly stood. She wrapped her arms around his neck, still kissing him as he effortlessly carried her to the bed and laid her gently on top of the silk sheets.

Shepard laid down next to her, propping himself up on his elbow as he pushed her hair behind her ear. She kicked off her heels, closing her eyes as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, running his fingertips down her arm and sending shivers up her spine. She brought her left hand up to his face, moving itself to the back of his head and brought it closer to her's, forcing him to position himself on top of her. She drug her lips across his eyebrows, his eyes, his nose – leaving a trail of kissing – before finally touching her lips to his once more. As they kissed, she slowly removed his jacket and undid his tie, before moving on to the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Never once pausing in their embrace, her nimble fingers unfastened each button and seconds later, she slipped the shirt off of Shepard's chiseled shoulders and onto the floor.

She cooed at him as her hands explored his exposed skin. With a smile, he carefully rolled so that she was positioned on top of him. As she straddled him, he sat up – kissing her once again, before bringing his right hand on the back of her head and tangling his hand in her hair. His thumb traced small circles in her thigh, squeezing it gently – sending more shivers to course through Miranda's body.

Her body burned with desire for this man, but she kept her actions slow and deliberate, not wanting to rush a single moment of intimacy with him. She broke their kiss and leaned back, resting her hands on his chest. He kicked off his shoes as he tried to sit up, but Miranda kept him down – and instead grabbed his hand and brought it to her chest. Without needing to speak a word, he knew exactly what she wanted from him and calmed himself, feeling each beat of her heart rush down his arm like an electric pulse.

She gradually leaned in and kissed him again, but this time all expedience was gone and they fell into their own rhythm. He slowly dragged the straps of her dress down her shoulders as his lips gradually drifted to her neck. He unfastened the zipper on her back and pulled her dress down to her waist, moving his lips to her clavicle. They turned so that they were side by side and Miranda's hand slid down his ribs, tracing the faint scars left by his injury from months ago.

Eventually, jockeying for position a final time, Shepard hovered just above her nearly naked form. As her hands journeyed to the button of his pants, she began to kiss his chest. Easily sliding the slacks from his waist, she brought her face to his and they both inhaled in anticipation.

They spent the entire night making up for the months they lost. Not even their first night together in the engine room could compare to the level of intimacy they reached. Their relationship wasn't perfect, but no relationship was - and as hard as that fact might be for Miranda to get used to – she could live with it. She realized on the bridge that she never really had a choice. She could live without Shepard – but she didn't want to. And she never would.

When the holographic sky brightened 6 hours later and they finally started drifting off to sleep, Shepard took Miranda's hand as she lay nestled against him. She couldn't remember any other moment in her life that had been more perfect and she couldn't imagine it getting any better.

As sleep started to take them away, she realized she had been wrong to think that when he said, "I love you, Miranda Lawson – and I always will."

Because this time she had no hesitation about answering him.


	8. Chapter 8

Miranda opened her eyes, slowly – the light from the artificial sun of the Presidium had slowly peaked through the silk sheets that covered the window, and onto her face. She raised a hand slowly to block it, blinking her eyes a couple of times to get rid of the grogginess. She eventually turned her head away and found herself staring at the still sleeping face of her lover.

Shepard was still fast asleep, and a smile crept onto Miranda's blushing face as she recalled the time they shared last night. Her fingers gently traced the outlines of the muscle on his arms – and she let out a quiet laugh as a smile crept onto his dreaming face. She leaned in closer, kissed him on the forehead, and turned to get out of bed.

She let out a yawn and stretched as she stood up, wondering what she should do to surprise Shepard when he woke up. Running a hand through her hair, she turned and looked at the small table in front of the couch, smiling at the still half filled glasses of wine and the abundance of uneaten strawberries.

'_Breakfast!'_ The thought popped into her mind. They didn't get the chance to drink or eat much last night, she thought, being too busy attending to… other things.

'_He's bound to be hungry when he wakes up,'_ she looked back to him. Giving a quick nod, she picked up her dress from last night, quickly put it on – and walked to the door.

"Hmm, where are you going?" A voice behind her asked.

She turned, and looked at Shepard, who had propped himself up and was staring at her groggily, "I'll be back, Shepard," she said, winking as she turned and exited.

He smiled– and fell back into his sleep.

Judging by the position of the sun in the skyline, it was roughly noon when Miranda stepped out into the calm streets of the Presidium, slightly embarrassed by her appearance – but not caring when she thought once again of the reason why her hair was a mess and her makeup gone.

As she began walking in the direction that Shepard and she had walked last night, she noticed two turians on a bench near the water in the midst of a very heated discussion. A few other people were also watching them as they passed, she observed. One salarian in particular stood out from the rest of the crowd, and immediately Miranda felt uneasy. He was leaning against the wall, his gaze in the opposite direction of the turians. She followed the direction of his concentrated stare, but there was absolutely nothing to see.

"That's strange," she whispered to herself, perking a brow in curiosity.

'_No, it's not,_" she scolded herself almost immediately. '_Not everyone is out to get you, Miranda._'

Putting her thoughts on Shepard once more, she left her paranoia where she stood and continued on her search to find a market, hoping to find a terminal that would give her directions to the nearest store. She didn't know of one specifically on the Presidium, but she was optimistic that she would find one with the things she was looking for without having to resort to going down to the Wards.

The walkways were crowded with people at this hour and the further Miranda walked, the worse it got. Ambassadors and Emissaries of every race were rushing to their meetings and diplomatic conferences – each of them vying to get their own position on the Council. It was a dense crowd, and at one point, a man even ran into her, turning her around. A sharp pain ran down her arm, and as she looked, down she realized the man had scratched her and blood started to trickle from a tiny pin-prick looking hole. Fuming, Miranda had to quell the urge to put her biotics to good use, but the man never even gave her a second glance. Using her dress to wipe the wound, she watched him disappear into the crowd for a second before turning – and then froze. She turned back quickly, absolutely sure she had seen the same sketchy salarian from earlier, but he was nowhere to be seen.

'Pull yourself together, for god's sake," she reprimanded herself. Taking a few deep breaths, Miranda proceeded in her search for a market.

She let out a small sigh of relief when she came across a small market in the northern section of the Presidium. It wasn't much, she realized as she got closer, but it would do. She stepped inside and started searching for the items she needed. From the corner of her eye, Miranda saw him once more – the salarian that had been following her – staring at her from the building next door. Finally sure that she wasn't just being paranoid, she turned and started to approach him. For one brief second, his eyes met hers - and then he disappeared into the alley between the two businesses. Quickening her pace, she gave chase, determined to find out why he was following her.

As she rounded the corner, she saw him standing there, just a few feet off, looking directly at her – almost as if he was waiting for her.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lawson," he said.

She paused, casting a glare at the salarian, "What do you want? Why have you been following me?"

"Well," he shifted his weight slightly, "That's quite a rude way to say hello to someone."

"You've been following me for the past 20 minutes – I'd say that would kill any pleasantries that would be exchanged."

"Maybe I was admiring your beauty?"

"So you're a stalker? Doubt it."

He smirked, bringing his right hand up to scratch his scalp, "Well then. I see you are one who likes to get straight to the bottom of things, so I'll be pretty blunt; I want to hire you."

The offer caught her off guard, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. My employer and I are in need of someone with your… expertise."

"And how, exactly, do you know what my expertise is?"

"My business is information, Miss Lawson – and I make it a habit to know as much as I can about high ranking Cerberus officers."

"Ex-Cerberus," she corrected, "Who is your employer?"

"Someone who is not on friendly terms with your old employer - He'd like to bring you on for a highly classified research mission."

"Who - is your employer?" She reiterated, her tone more demanding.

The salarian paused, placing his hands inside his pockets, "I am an Agent for the Shadow Bro-"

"Not interested," she interrupted, turning to walk away.

"Oh, but I think you will be."

Miranda stopped, his sudden confidence causing her alarm. She turned and faced the Agent, "And why is that?"

"Because if you don't do what I ask, then I'm going to have to kill you," he took his left hand out of his pocket, a small silver cylinder in his hand.

Miranda began to glow with biotics, grinning, "I'd like to see you try."

The salarian laughed, "Oh, I won't even break a sweat. In fact," he toyed with the small cylinder, "The only muscles I'll be moving are the ones in my finger."

Her brow raised in curiosity, "What is that?" she asked, nodding towards the cylinder.

"It's a remote, Miss Lawson - the remote that controls the micro-virus coursing through your veins right now."

"Excuse me?"

"That man who bumped into you earlier injected you with it. Had you not been distracted by your paranoia, you would've noticed the pin prick wound. The Shadow Broker knew you'd play hard to get – so he decided to make this easy. It's a simple thing to follow – do what he wants, you live. Don't… well…"

A devilish grin appeared on his face, "You will die… but first, we'll kill Commander Shepard."


	9. Chapter 9

Miranda staggered, taken aback by the open threat, "And what makes you," she responded, trying to regain her composure, "think that you can take out Commander Shepard?"

"All I have to do is make the call."

"You're extremely confident for one who knows so little about the man."

"I know that he recently got a crew put onto his ship to replace the regulars during their two week 'vacation'…"

"What does that have to do with this?"

"I also know that the body of one of those crewmate's won't be found until the two weeks are up – in which I will be long gone and so will what I need," the salarian was beaming with confidence, knowing he was pushing Miranda to the point of absolute paranoia, "I also know that we placed an assassin in that skeleton crew – who is now waiting for the order to kill the Commander.'

"So we won't return to the Ship," she said – thinking she found a hole in his plan, "and have the Alliance take all of the crew members into custody."

The Agent laughed, "Oh, but you won't do that."

"And why not?"

The salarian flicked open the remote, showing Miranda the lightish green trigger button – his finger hovering right over it, "I think we both know why."

She stared at the trigger, anger coursing through her body, "What do you want from us?"

"I want nothing from you, personally. My employer – however – wants certain information that you gathered during one of your missions for Cerberus. In exchange for that, you get to live – and work for us."

"Why would I want to work for you after this? After threatening Shepard and myself like you just have?" She said angrily, trying desperately to find a solution to the situation.

"Because every day that you work for us – is another day that Shepard lives," The Agent said, triumph obvious in his voice.

Miranda stood tall in an attempt to appear confidant in spite of the circumstances.

'_There's no way out of this… is there?_' she thought to herself.

Refusing to give the Agent the satisfaction of seeing her sweat, she restrained her anger, and panic, and calmly responded to him.

"You won't get away with this," she said firmly.

"Tell yourself what you have to. But if you want Shepard to stop the Reaper invasion when it comes – then you better do as I ask."

She glared at the Agent, "That depends on what you want."

The Agent kept the remote in his hand, fully aware of the damage Miranda could do if he gave her even the smallest opening. "Do you recall the Normandy's expedition to the planet Lorek? To investigate a missing Cerberus agent – Tyrone Rawlings, if I recall right?"

Miranda nodded.

"Good – your job is to get me that information."

She perked a brow is curiosity, "And what's so important about this information?"

The Agent laughed, "Don't worry your pretty little head about it," his tone then switched to demanding, "Just get me – the information."

Miranda was angered by the insult, but she remained calm. She knew her life now rested in doing this salarian's bidding, and she needed to buy herself sometime before she could find a way to get the virus out of her system.

"Fine."

The Agent nodded, "I knew you'd come to an agreement with us. Get me the information and then proceed to the Wards. I won't tell you where to meet me – I'll find you."

The Agent then turned to walk away, but he stopped just before he did, "Oh… and did I forget to mention? If you don't bring the information to me within the next couple of days – the virus will automatically activate – killing you, and with you dead – no one will be left to warn Shepard of his impending death."

The Agent disappeared into the darkness of the alley, laughing slightly as his boots hitting the ground sent out an ominous echo.

Miranda stared into the darkness, completely stunned at the events that had just transpired. She brought her hands up to her face, wondering how she could've been so stupid as to not put more thought into why she was bleeding after that man had bumped into her. She fell perfectly into the Agent's trap – and it was going to cost her. She now had to choose between betraying the man she loved and keeping him alive.


	10. Chapter 10

As Miranda walked back to meet Shepard, her arms full of the groceries she no longer felt like eating, her mind busily worked in search of a solution. Her body was on auto-pilot as she merged with the crowd.

'_Should I tell Shepard?_' she asked herself. '_He won't think logically about this. He'll be too emotional. He would hand over the information, but he would never allow them to blackmail me into working for them. I don't want to lie to him, though. How could he ever trust me again if I kept this from him? …But will he even be alive to trust me if I do tell him?"_

Miranda's chest heaved with a heavy sigh as the Consort's chambers came into view. She realized then that she had already made up her mind. When she reached the door leading into the room Shepard was in, she paused and took a moment to collect herself before entering.

Shepard was standing beside the bed with his back to the door, his eyes focused on the task of buttoning his shirt up. He turned when he heard her heels hit the floor.

"I was just about to form a search party for you," he said with a grin.

A hesitant smile filled her face as she took the food and set it on the table near the couch. Shepard walked up behind her, grabbing her waist as he kissed her neck. She tensed slightly in his embrace, but it was enough for Shepard to notice. Moving to her side he looked hard at her face.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

Miranda attempted to put her mask of collectedness on, but found her expressions faltering when she looked at Shepard. She flashed him a weak smile that she knew wasn't believable in the least.

"Yes. I'm just tired after last night," she said softly. His eyes narrowed in disbelief and she struggled to change the topic. "I brought you something to eat," she continued. "I thought you might be hungry after our little… workout."

The thought of their night together flooded her brain and Miranda found a genuine smile creep onto her face. Seeing her expression, Shepard relaxed a little and sat down on the couch, but she could see that he knew something was wrong. She knew this wouldn't be the end of his questioning. After arranging the food on the table, she sat beside him and they began to eat. As they did, an aura of tension hung in the air and a strained silence enveloped them. Keeping Shepard in the dark was going to be a lot harder than she had initially realized and for once in her life, Miranda wasn't sure she had the fortitude to see something through.

Once they had finished their breakfast and cleaned up, they decided it was time to head back to the ship. As they walked, Miranda kept her attention on their surroundings, hoping Shepard wouldn't press her for the truth. Turning his gaze on her as they approached the elevator to C-Sec, he finally broke the silence.

"I know something's wrong. Why won't you talk to me?" he asked her, a worried tone coloring his voice.

Miranda sighed as she looked at him. The pain in his eyes broke her heart and she dreaded the lie she would have to sell him.

"It's nothing I wanted to concern you with," she forced herself to reply. She spit the words out and each one that passed her lips left an awful taste in her mouth.

They stopped walking and Shepard moved his hand to her face. His brow was wrinkled with concern for the woman he loved and it killed Miranda to see it.

'_I'll be able to explain everything once he's safe – once we're both safe_," she reassured herself.

"Talk to me," he pleaded.

"It's nothing, Shepard, honest – I'm just thinking about a lot of things right now and I don't want to bother you with them," she flashed him a fake smile, swallowing the lump in her throat.

'_Keep it together. If he sees any hesitation he'll see right through me_,' she told herself.

He let out a sigh, giving a small nod as the elevator doors hissed open, "Alright then. Let's get back to the Normandy – kind of worried about that skeleton crew…"

Shepard felt her body tense slightly. He noted it – but didn't inquire as to why.

"Y-yes," she stumbled, clearing her throat, "Not exactly the kind of people I'd leave my ship with. But Joker should've kept them in line while we were gone."

They shared a small laugh as the elevator doors closed shut and began its descent. Most of the ride was in silence. Shepard leaned against the glass, staring at the back of Miranda's head as her eyes darted around the elevator, trying to figure out a solution to her predicament. But it was to no avail. When the doors hummed open, her brow furrowed in concern – and she led the way through the security checkpoint.

"One moment, please," the C-Sec guard asked as they approached. The scanner flashed over their bodies, going over every little detail, and analyzing every single fiber. When the scan stopped, the Guard had a curious expression on his face. He was about to voice his question when his eyes caught Miranda, who was mouthing to him to keep his silence.

He nodded, "You're clear – please continue," waving them through the checkpoint – and towards the waiting shuttle that would lead them back to the Normandy.


	11. Chapter 11

Shepard sat at his desk, going over the reports that the skeleton crew had left for him during his trip. They kept the place running tight – and smooth, which surprised Shepard. He nodded, impressed, as he read Johnson's report on maintenance, Morgan's suggestions for new medicine to be added to the medbay, and Billicks assessment of the weapons – and upgrades that could be purchased to help with cooling and function.

It was Joker's voice over the personal intercom that pulled Shepard away from the reports;

"They're not bad, Commander."

"These reports support that claim, Joker. Anything personal you want to add?"

He could hear Joker shift uneasily in his chair, "Nothing really – something still doesn't feel right. I've had EDI keep watch on them and none of them seem to be sketchy."

Shepard raised a brow, "And how is that bad?"

"Everyone has something to hide, Shepard – you of all people know that. They wake up, do their work, eat quietly, and sleep. They don't talk to one another or cause any problems. They're like machines. You'd think they'd be a bit more sociable."

"Well," he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning over their reports, "they're under a lot of pressure here. This IS the Normandy, Joker – we're not exactly some no-name ship."

"I know, I know. Still, something feels wrong. Especially that one guy… what's his name… EDI, who's in medical?"

"Serviceman Second Class Christopher Morgan, Jeff," EDI's voice rang out.

"Yeah, that guy. He's weird," Joker continued.

"Noted, Joker. I'll keep an eye out for anything out of ordinary…"

"Yeah, you're good at that," Joker cracked, "normally ends up with us picking up another squad member."

Shepard laughed, "Get back to work, Joker.'

"Aye aye, Commander."

Shepard closed the comm, listening to the channel click closed as Joker's assessment ran through his mind.

'_He's good at judging people,'_ he thought, _'and if he thinks something sketchy is going on – quite possible that he's right. Wonder if this has anything to do with Miranda?'_

He walked over to his couch, letting his body fall into it in exhaustion as he began pondering if there was a connection. She was acting awfully strange ever since they returned to the Normandy, he noticed. She was more distant – similar to the way she acted before their evening together, though the air around her wasn't filled with frustration at one another – but at something else. He couldn't pinpoint it yet, but he knew that something was troubling her deeply – and he would get to the bottom of it.

He turned over on the couch, his gaze staring up at the ceiling_, 'Something is not fitting together,'_ he continued,_ 'What would Miranda have to do with the crew? She was just as hesitant as I was when we brought them aboard – so I know she's equally as suspicious as I am of them. Her behavior can't have anything to do with this.'_

He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, and bringing his hands up to rub his face, contemplating his next move. Approach Miranda – and cause even more tension between the two or…

"EDI," he called, standing up from the couch and returning to his desk.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Access Alliance military intelligence – get the files on each member of the skeleton crew."

"Commander, I do not have the required access to do that," she responded.

"Get it."

"Very well."

It took a few minutes, but eventually – Shepard's holographic terminal screen came alive with the files.

"Thank you, EDI."

"You're welcome, Commander," the comm channel clicked close.

'I must've missed something,' he thought to himself as he browsed through the reports. Everything seemed in perfect condition – each of them had distinguished themselves in their respective fields – and they all had extensive tours of duty.

Nothing seemed out of place.

'_I am overreacting,'_ he thought, running a hand over his scalp.

He stood up, trying to calm himself down, gazing into the fish aquarium as he did. Putting his hands in his pockets, he walked towards the elevator – deciding to go to Miranda about this. Maybe she could calm him down, he thought, as he elevator doors hissed open. He stepped inside, punched the button for the crew deck, and leaned against the back wall as the elevator slowly descended, his mind racing.

As the doors finally hummed open, he caught sight of Crewman Morgan, walking past the elevator doors – giving him a slight glance as he did. Curiosity overtook Shepard – and as he followed Morgan into the medbay, he knew something was wrong.

Shepard waited for the doors to close before speaking, "Something wrong, Morgan?"

The doctor slowly turned him, hesitancy written all over his face, "I'm… s-sorry, Commander – I wasn't sure if I should bring this to your attention or not. I'm not a snitch."

Shepard raised a hand, "Relax, Morgan. This is my ship, and I'd like to know what's going on. What's bothering you?"

Morgan flopped down in the chair behind Chakwas' desk, fiddling with tables as he searched for words to begin, "I was uh… talking to Corporal Smith, sir – and she brought up something that made me uneasy."

"What is it?"

"Well, there was this recent breakthrough in weapons technology – and while that is Billicks field of work – the breakthrough had to do with bending electrical bolts into a direct stream, to be used as a weapon. Smith was interested in the science behind it."

"And?"

"That research is still classified… yet Smith mentioned having a prototype of the weapon on board."

"We have all kinds of weapons on board," Shepard crossed his arms, "that are probably more dangerous than this one."

"While true – the research behind this isn't exactly finished. The weapon itself is very small – and the emissions it gives off are invisible to the naked eye. One wouldn't see the bolt coming towards them if they weren't prepared. It's a covert weapon – one that would cause your target a painful death, but they wouldn't even know it was coming. Most, if not all, of the recent prototypes however, developed by the company have malfunctioned – causing an explosion similar to…" he waved his hands around, trying to find a similarity, "Chernobyl."

Concern clouded Shepard's face, "How could something that small produce such a blast?"

Morgan shrugged, "I don't know, Commander – I'm a doctor, not a physicist."

Shepard sighed, "Are you sure of this?"

He nodded in return.

Shepard stepped forward, placing a hand on Morgan's shoulder, "Thank you, Morgan. I'll look into it and make sure it's taken care of."

"Anytime, Commander."


	12. Chapter 12

Miranda sat in one of the chairs angled toward the windows in the starboard observation deck. She had turned off the lights when she had entered and was now enveloped by the vast emptiness of space. Her bright blue eyes flickered as she gazed into the black depth beyond her. Leaning back, she crossed her legs and brought her hand to meet her temple. She rubbed small semi-circles with her fingers in an attempt to alleviate the pounding in her head… and simultaneously wished she could turn back time.

Just as Miranda shut her eyes, the sound of the door opening broke her thoughts. She opened her eyes in time to see Shepard enter.

"I assume you had EDI locate me," she said with annoyance.

Shepard's eyes narrowed as he moved toward her, "I didn't need to, actually. This is usually where you retreat to when you have something on your mind," he responded. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall opposite her.

'_Damn him for knowing me so well_," she thought, '_He can never make things easy, can he?'_

Adjusting herself on the couch, she unconsciously took a defensive posture, "What makes you think I have something on my mind?"

Shepard pushed himself off of the wall and took a seat in the chair in front of her. He leaned in and looked hard in her eyes as he responded. "I don't have to be genetically modified to see that something's bothering you," he said, "You've been acting strangely ever since you went for breakfast this morning. Tell me what's going on… please."

That final word hit her like a concussive blast. Here the invincible Commander Shepard was practically begging her not to shut him out – again. Unable to hold his piercing gaze, she lowered her eyes and prepared to tell him the truth.

'_I can't lie to him any longer…"_

In that moment, her eyes found the dot on her arm that was far more ominous than it looked. The Agent's words came back to her and a shiver rolled down her spine.

'_No. I won't put him in danger simply to appease my emotions,_' she convinced herself.

Shepard waited for an explanation as her mouth opened, but none ever came. Instead, her jaw clenched shut and her eyes continued to avert his.

"So that's it then?" he asked with irritation, "After everything we've been through, I'm not even worth an explanation?" He lowered his head, trying to catch her gaze, but she refused to look at him.

Finally raising her head, she looked at him with a blank stare. "I don't want to lie to you."

"Then don't, Miranda," he pleaded, "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on. I'll help you – whatever it is. You know that."

She shook her head softly and turned her focus to the viewport, "I… can't." She spit out the word like a bitter poison.

"Why can't you?" It was evident by his tone that he was trying to be patient with her, but Miranda could see how much this upset him.

She stood from her chair and walked to the viewport. Even in the darkness, the brilliance of the stars before them illuminated her, casting her silhouette for him to admire. He followed her lead, but stopped beside her, looking down on her as she continued to stare into space.

"This is an impossible situation…" She turned her head slightly and looked at him from the corner of her eye, "And I don't even believe in 'impossible'," Her face wrinkled with frustration.

He remained silent, waiting for her to continue while his eyes went over her body, trying to discern her body language and get the slightest clue at what was troubling her.

Miranda turned her face fully toward him and smiled slightly. What little light there was illuminated every feature of his face and she reveled in her work. Just looking at him gave her hope for their situation. After all, everyone had told her bringing him back to life would be impossible, but she had done it.

'_And with damn good results_,' she thought.

Taking strength from the mere fact that he was here in front of her, she found the words to say what she needed.

"It's not that I don't trust you Shepard, it's far from that…" Her body turned in his direction and she inched closer to him, wanting to savor this moment - in case it turned out to be their last.

'_No! I'll find a way out of this._'

Her hand moved to his chest as she looked up into his eyes. She could feel them start to fill with tears, but she held them back as best she could. She needed to be strong for them both.

Catching a glint of light from her eyes, Shepard's face flooded with worry.

"Miranda-"

Before he could say any more, she put her fingers to his mouth and shook her head slightly.

"There's nothing more to say, Shepard."

Her fingers moved from his lips, lightly grazing them against his cheek as she relished the feel of his skin. Slowly she pulled her left hand up to mirror her other. He stared at her in confusion and, for reasons he couldn't understand right then, sorrow. Her shimmering eyes stared in his as she gave him a weak smile that was overflowing with emotion. With his head in her hands, she kissed him. It was a starved, yet timid embrace – something that implied a longing for something she'd never taste again - and Shepard couldn't discern its meaning. He felt the hot tears fall from her eyes and hit where their cheeks intersected. His hands entwined in her hair and he pulled her closer – not out of lust, but a desire to keep her with him, a desire he didn't understand.

Realizing she would never have the strength to leave him if she didn't go right then, Miranda pulled from him more unwillingly than she'd ever done with anything before. Staring deep into his eyes once more, she said everything she needed to without a single word. His muscles clenched in response while the expression of a man in torture overwhelmed his features. With one more quick kiss that they both held a second longer than was intended, Miranda let go of him and grabbed his arms, pulling them away from her as well.

She turned and walked toward the door, stopping in front of it as it opened. She flashed Shepard one last enigmatic look – and then she was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

Shepard stood there for a long while afterward, feeling as if his heart had been ripped from his body. He couldn't understand why there was suddenly this empty hole inside of him. He couldn't understand what anything that just happened had meant, or why he let her leave without an explanation. He replayed each moment in his head, the weak smile and final look so familiar, but Shepard couldn't place their meaning. He was about to move from the statuesque posture she had left him in when it hit him like a ton of bricks… The smile, the kiss, her tears, that last elusive look… She had been saying goodbye.

Whatever was going on, she thought she would never see him again – and he had let her walk away.

He cursed at himself, "EDI, where's Miranda?"

EDI's voice filled the room. "She left the Normandy 7 minutes ago, Commander."

"Did she say where she was going?" he asked.

"No, Commander – she did, however, download a specific file to an OSD before she left," the AI replied.

Confused, Shepard responded, "Which file?"

"The file I was trying to decrypt – the one you acquired on your mission to Lorek, Commander."

"That doesn't make any sense…"

"I'm sorry I don't know more, Commander," EDI apologized, closing the comm channel.

Shepard cursed under his breath again and stormed toward the door. He went through the situation and his options in his head, but as he headed toward the elevator, the crew's cabin caught his eye and he remembered what Morgan had told him about Smith.

'_That prototype could be useful for this,'_ he thought, _'but the risk of it malfunctioning…'_

He shook his head, _'It's a risk I'll take.'_

He entered the crew chambers – and to his luck, Smith was there, sitting on her bunk, back turned to the door – with her chest open in front of her. She turned and gaped at Shepard in surprise, "Commander… I…"

"Where's the gun?" Shepard demanded.

Smith's face wrinkled in confusion, "Sir, what gun are you talking about?"

"I know you brought a prototype weapon on board MY ship. I don't have time for games, Smith," Shepard yelled, "Hand it over."

Smith's mouth opened and closed, trying to find words to get her out of the situation, "Sir, I have no honest clue what you are talking about. I was-"

Shepard interrupted her, raising a hand as he marched forward and grabbed the chest – tilting its contents onto the floor. Piles of clothes and personal items flooded the area surrounding their feet, but he didn't see a gun. He pushed the contents around, trying to find anything abnormal, but everything was completely as it should have – until his hand bumped into something unusually hard in a folded up jacket. He picked up the item – unfolding the material as he did. Inside he found what he was looking – a small pistol shaped item with a large bright blue glowing clip. He stared at it for a bit before turning his glare towards Smith.

"Sir, I swear I have no clue wh-"

He raised his hand again to silence her, "Right now – you're lucky I have something more important to tend to before I write you up for bringing this onboard. However, I'm not letting you out of my sights. I'm leaving the Normandy for awhile and you're coming with me."

"Wher-"

"That's all YOU need to know, Smith. Suit up and meet me in the CIC in 5 minutes. If you're not there… I'll make sure EDI finds us the nearest airlock."

Smith gulped, then gave him a nod before beginning to pick up her items and throwing them back into her chest with haste. Shepard turned on his heels and exited the cabin, holstering the gun in his belt. As he headed for the elevator, a panicked voice caught his attention and stopped him feet from the elevators open door.

"Commander! Wait!"

Crewman Morgan appeared around the corner of the elevator and slid to a halt.

"C-Commander, there's something you should know," he stammered.

"I already dealt with Smith and the prototype, Morgan," he patted the gun on his belt, "It's taken care of."

"It's not that, S-Shepard," Morgan was visibly shaken, but he pushed on, "XO Lawson, she performed a blood test on herself, sir. She didn't give a reason, b-but she insisted on doing it herself."

"A blood test? What for?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow in bewilderment.

"I had no idea, sir. But she left the sample by mistake," Morgan became even more unstable as he came to his point, "I-I ran the sample again, sir. I know I had no right, but her behavior was… off. I was c-con-concerned."

Shepard put his hand up. "Slow down. You won't be in any trouble. Just tell me what you found."

"P-poison, sir. More accurately, a micro-virus. It needs to be detonated before the poison will be released into her system…" He paused and fidgeted with his hands, pulling some papers from his chest pocket and handing them to Shepard, "But there appears to be a failsafe, sir."

"Poison? Failsafe?" Confusion spread across Shepard's face as he looked at the information on the paper, "What does that mean?"

"It seems that if the v-virus isn't activated within a certain period of time, the thing separating it from her blood will dissolve, releasing the poison anyway," Morgan finished.

Shepard ran his hand over his head and began to pace, his thoughts racing through his head.

"Is there a cure? Can it be removed?" he asked.

"There has to be a way to deactivate it," the doctor replied, "The person who injected her would know how," He was starting to calm down now that his task was complete.

After a moment of contemplation, Shepard made a decision.

"Morgan, I need you to suit up. Bring whatever supplies you think might be useful in treating XO Lawson's… condition," he told the man.

Hesitantly, Morgan nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Meet me in the CIC in 5 minutes. We're going after her."

With that, Shepard stepped inside the elevator, watching Morgan turn to leave as the doors shut. He leaned against the back of the lift, his mind now realizing what Miranda was so afraid of when they spoke. He still didn't understand why she didn't confide in him – but it must've been something big, or else she wouldn't have resorted to the secrecy.

He stared down at the weapon now attached to his hip, _'I feel bad for the son-of-a-bitch who did this.'_


	14. Chapter 14

Miranda walked slowly through the bustling crowds of the Wards, keeping herself alert – the dim lights of the place making everyone unrecognizable – everyone an enemy, a threat. She kept one of her hands on her weapon, the tempest sub-machine gun that had gotten her through so many dangerous situations with Shepard. She hoped she wouldn't need it, but with this Agent, she couldn't be sure.

There was a lot of uncertainty coursing through her as she continued walking. Was it right to leave Shepard like that? After all he did for her – did he deserve that?

'_Yes,'_ she reaffirmed to herself_, 'I'm doing this for him. He's dead otherwise.'_

You don't really believe that, do you?

'_I do,'_ she told herself once more, _'He risked his life for me on countless situations – least I can do in return is to make sure he lives his fully.'_

She walked into a small back alley and leaned against the wall, pausing for a moment to try and distract herself from thinking about Shepard. She went through her plan in her mind once more in an attempt to do such.

'_Meet with the Agent,'_ she began, slowly going through the critical points of her plan in her mind, _'Give him the information – that secures Shepard's safety. Take the offer – if I deny it, I'm dead. Taking the offer gives me the antidote – which clears me. Go wherever they need me to go – but slowly work at undoing their work. If I want revenge on these bastards, what better way to do it than on the inside.'_

A triumphant smirk appeared on her face as she took in a deep breath and rejoined the crowd, _'I'll destroy them for what they've done.'_

She continued following the flow of the crowd for another five minutes, before an alleyway that seemed so reconigzable pulled her away. She inched closer to the dark street, inspecting the still ruined architect from Sovereign's attack on the Citadel. She noted everything as she continued walking down the alley – keeping herself on high alert.

It was a surprise to even her when she finally realized where the alley lead – Chora's Den, or what remains of it. Having been destroyed, the place never reopened – the Black Star Lounge probably having a hand in that. It didn't necessarily bother her though, she never liked the place – seeing as nothing but smut and pervasion. She shook her head in disgust at the place, but something pulled her towards it – some force making her inch closer and closer, until she was standing in the entrance – staring in.

It's once vibrant dance room was now dark – tables having been turned over and the entire place been stripped bare by looters and thugs. Half broken bottles sat quietly on the shelves, bullet holes being evident everywhere. Whether they were caused by when Shepard came after Fist – or another attack, she couldn't tell.

She took a step further inside – and immediately she knew something was wrong. For a place that had been uninhabited for so long, her step didn't unsettle any dust that would've found its way on the floor. Someone had been here recently – and that someone, was standing right behind her.

"I'm surprised you found your way here, Ms. Lawson," the voice said behind her.

Quickly withdrawing her SMG, she turned and aimed directly at the salarian agent standing behind her. She lowered her gun when she realized it was him.

"A bit edgey, are we not?" He laughed as she returned the gun to her belt.

"Dealing with an individual like you, I'd say I'm taking necessary precautions."

He shrugged slightly, bringing his hand up to scratch his scaly scalp, "Do you have the information?"

"I do."

"Hand it over then," he replied, holding a hand out – impatience plainly etched on his face.

She withdrew the small OSD from her pouch, clutching it in her hand tightly as she glared at the Agent, "I'm not handing this over until I have confirmation that Shepard is safe – and the antidote for this… poison… is in my hands."

"Ms. Lawson, with the position that you are in – making demands isn't exactly something you can do. Either way, I'll get the information from you. Willingly or," he withdrew the small remote from his pouch, "over your dead body."

She hesitated, knowing that he was right, "Just tell me one thing."

His tone turned impatient, "-What-?"

"Who was the assassin?"

He smirked devilishly, "Haha, before I tell you – I want to hear your theories first. Indulge me," he crossed his arms.

"Smith is the obvious one. She snuck a weapon onboard. I overheard Morgan having a conversation with Shepard regarding it. A weapon of that magnitude would kill everyone on board the Normandy, not just Shepard."

He let out a laugh, "It could."

"So it is her?"

"Of course not, it's Morgan."

Shepard immediately come to the forefront of Miranda's mind, the fear that the crewmember he trusted the most was the one who was assigned to kill him should've been foreseeable by Miranda.

The salarian Agent laughed, understanding the look on Miranda's face as the revelation swept over her, "Oh come on – you didn't see it coming? The hesitant medical man who somehow knew about a prototype weapon onboard the Normandy? We practically gave it away."

"Now," he paused, extending his hand once more, "The OSD, please. I have other important matters to attend to."

Miranda hesitated a bit before dropping the disc into the Agent's hands, "Now hold up your end of the bargain – call off the assassin."

He smiled once more as he inspected the disk, placing it into his pocket before staring at Miranda, "No."

"What?" She muttered, urgency filling her voice.

"You honestly didn't think that we would let Shepard and you walk away from this unscathed, did you? You and your pathetic group of heroes have been a thorn in the Shadow Broker's side for some time now – we just had to figure out a way to knock him and you out at the same time."

"You tricked me!"

"And all too easily," he smirked, bringing the remote up in his hand - his finger hovering over the button, "Goodbye, Ms. Lawson."

His finger came down – and as the button depressed into the remote, she could feel a warm sensation course through her body as the poison was released into her bloodstream.

"You bastard," she growled.

She raised her pistol in the Agent's direction, but a trembling in her arm caused her to fire early, missing the Agent by a good deal. As Miranda brought her other hand up to steady her aim, the figure in front of her went blurry. She blinked her eyes tight and shook her head, repeating several times, but to no avail.

The Agent laughed to himself as he casually turned his back on her and walked away, his blurry visage becoming completely indiscernible to her within seconds.

Her mind was slowly becoming clouded with a thick fog. Never before had simple thoughts been so difficult for Miranda to grasp onto. She put her palm to her forehead, pushing against her face as she tried to rub away the agony that was creeping into her head. She dropped her gun as a wave of pain swept through her body and brought her to her knees. For one lucid moment, she was in control again and her thoughts landed on her only hope - Shepard.

'_I need to find him,_' she told herself, repeating it until it became a mantra. The fog descended on her once more and all rational thought left her body - save that one thought that was her only chance of surviving.

Shakily rising to her feet again, Miranda slowly trudged in the direction she thought led to the Normandy. The waves of pain were becoming more frequent - and more agonizing - but she refused to let them stop her. She had to reach Shepard. She had nearly reached the markets in the lower wards when the trembling in her body turned to violent shakes. Unable to support herself in her weakened state, she collapsed to the floor, convulsing violently.

Miranda thought of Shepard one last time - and then the darkness overcame her.


	15. Chapter 15

Shepard leaned against the airlock door, his arms crossed as his mind raced with all the different scenarios.

'_She was poisoned,'_ he began,_ 'It must've happened this morning – it would explain her behavior. But why didn't she tell me? And by who? Someone from my past? Or her's? And why take the data?'_

He ran a hand over his scalp, _'A bargaining chip maybe? Data for the antidote? But if that was the reason – then she could've just asked me for it. She would've known I'd have given it to her without hesitation. Or hell, she would've gone to the lab herself – tried to concoct an antidote based on her own blood sample.'_

'_There had to be a reason to prevent her from doing such_,' his mind went through the entire day, trying to find any clue. He was drawing blanks until his mind settled on when she had said goodbye to him. That look she had given him – that final kiss.

'_Me,'_ the realization came over him, _'I was the reason why she couldn't do it. She couldn't do it because something would happen to me – but what? What could have her so worried that she wouldn't even tell me?'_

Shepard felt like he was on the verge of figuring it all out when Smith and Morgan finally joined him in the airlock. He glared at Smith as she hesitantly stepped forward, "You're late."

Morgan held up a hand, "It was my fault, Shepard. I couldn't find the back-up medical pack and had Smith help me look for it."

Shepard raised a brow at Smith, whose eyes were staring straight at the floor with the intensity that if maybe she stared hard enough, her eyes could drill a hole out of the predicament she was in. Shepard nodded slightly at Morgan before turning and activating the decontamination. It was a quick process – and within no time they were walking down the streets of the Presidium, trying to find any clue as to where Miranda might have gone.

They searched all of the places that her and Shepard had frequented during their previous visits and anywhere close, but there was no trace of her. Shepard wracked his brain over and over for any clue that might give away where she would be – something she would've hinted at – but deep down he knew she hadn't left one. If his life really was in danger, she would willingly sacrifice herself for him and she wouldn't want him to risk himself to save her.

He cursed under his breath once they finished checking the last place Shepard was familiar with on the Presidium. He paced in small circles, his eyes gazing over the crowds in hope that she might be there. His heart sunk when he realized it was in vain.

Morgan and Smith exchanged anxious glances as Shepard rubbed his temple. Catching their exchange in his peripheral, he realized that each second they wasted could cost Miranda dearly.

"Come on," he said firmly, starting his march towards the Wards, quickening his pace until they were moving at a slow run. With the elevator down to C-Sec being the closest one to them, they had it in their sights within minutes and boarded it. Shepard stood in front, facing the elevator doors, as Smith and Morgan stood just behind him on either side. As the lift descended slowly, Morgan turned his head to Smith;

"So…"

"Shut up," Smith said angrily, her earlier reaction to being accused of treachery having turned slowly to anger.

Morgan was taken aback by the sudden brashness of his coworker, "Well fine then, just trying to be friendly…"

Shepard's head turned slightly, "Be quiet, both of you."

The doors opened just as Shepard returned his gaze forward. They exited the elevator and headed down the hall, running up the stairs that lead to the main floor of the Wards. Taking a minute to take in his surroundings, Shepard tried once more to see if Miranda was there – waiting.

'_Of course it's not that easy,_' he thought, his heart sinking once more.

Having no real idea of where to go or what to do, Shepard and the team began wondering aimlessly through the crowd. He double-checked every brunette they passed, but it was never her. He was becoming so frustrated that he could hardly think when a familiar site caught his eye – a salarian wearing an awfully familiar scientist coat.

Morgan noticed him too, crossed his arms, and cocked a brow in curiosity, "what the hell?'

The salarian stumbled out of the entrance of Flux – and approached him at a lively place, though he nearly fell over a numerous amount of times, and made an asari blush brightly when he "bumped" into her.

"Pardon me," he half-slurred, "Didn't see you. Incorrect. Saw you," he pointed at her then waved his hands around his head in big flourishes, "Motor functions temporarily… impended. Unable to… can't remember… train of thought," he stood there, his mouth agape for a few minutes before shrugging, "Oh well."

The asari stood there, astounded at the salarian's brazen and bizarre behavior as he staggered towards Shepard.

"Mordin?" Shepard asked, his face filled with mixed emotions of amusement, confusion, and worry.

A wide smile appeared on the scientist's face, "Yes. Visiting… Kirahe," he raised his arms in the air as a mock serious expression overcame his face. Imitating Kirahe's voice, he bellowed, "Our influence stopped the… things. With four… but!" he let out a belch, "We held the line!"

He doubled over in laughter, nearly falling on his face, but Shepard lunged forward and caught him. Mordin grabbed his hands as he tried to steady himself, and Shepard felt him place an object in his pocket. For a second, their eyes met – and Shepard saw that he was stone sober.

'_What is going on?_'

Shepard stood up straight and slipped his hand into his pocket, but Mordin stopped him – giving him a stern look before standing back up – continuing his act and stumbling around.

"Mordin, you should return to the Normandy and sober up – quickly," he began, "Miranda's in trouble – EDI will give you the details when you arrive."

Mordin nodded sluggishly, "Can count on me, Shepard. Wouldn't trust anyone but me – if I were you,' he emphasized the last part of the sentence, "For something as… delicate as this."

Shepard's eyes squinted in acknowledgement of the subtle message as he nodded. Mordin, stumbled around, and began his "drunken" trek towards the Normandy. Shepard turned his gaze towards Morgan and Smith, figuring out a way to get them out of his hair while he examines the small item in his pocket.

"We're not going to make any progress searching like this," he said, "Smith – check out Flux. Morgan, check out the med clinic and see if the resident doctor has seen anything. I'm going to check out the upper and lower Markets. Back here in five – understood?"

They nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Good - move out."

They separated – each going to their respective posts. The moment Shepard entered the Lower Markets, however, he made sure to find himself a small alley – and dug out of his pocket the small item Mordin had slipped in there.

It was a small earpiece – but Shepard recognized it immediately – it was the earpiece his former team had used during their missions. Small, out-of-date, Alliance grade communications. He took out the current one that was nestled in his ear – and replaced it with the old one, and immediately a familiar voice entered his head.

"Hello, Shepard," Liara said softly.

"Liara – if anyone else had this, I would've been awfully suspicious."

"Well suspicious is something you can afford to be right now. Some interesting information came my way and I thought it'd be very important material to share with you."

"It better be good, Liara – I'm not exactly in the best of situations."

"I'll be swift then. I noticed your request for a skeleton crew a last week to Anderson."

"How di-"

She cut him off, "And me being curious, I went over all the files of each of the people designated to replace your staff. Nothing out of the ordinary, obviously - seeing as how I'm sure you would've noticed something strange long before I did."

"A couple of days ago, however, I found out another interesting piece of information. According to one of my contacts on Omega, there was a body of an Alliance soldier found there roughly the same time your request was approved by Anderson. It being Omega – the news didn't travel fast, if it travelled at all."

"What are you getting at, Liara?"

"The body was identified three days ago – it was the body of Servicemen Christopher Morgan."

Shepard paused, unsure of how to handle this information, "Are you positive?"

"Shepard – my business is information. While deception is something I can be good at, false information is something I do not tolerate. As soon as I found out, I sent Mordin a message – since he was the only one of your current crew within the vicinity of the Normandy. He understood what needed to be done – and my contact confirmed when he made the drop. Now, I'm not exactly sure what this means, Shepard – but I just thought you needed to know. I have no clue who hired him or why, but the Christopher Morgan on your ship is not the real one."

Shepard let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temple, "Thank you, Liara – you're the best."

"I-.." he could hear her pause, "You're welcome, Shepard. Stay safe."

The comm channel clicked close and Shepard removed the earpiece, placing it back into his pocket. He then looked down at the prototype weapon on his hip and slowly started piecing things together as he started walking back to the meeting point.

'_Smith never stole this item, Morgan planted it. That explains why she was caught so off-guard by it. Is this connected to Miranda?'_ He paused at the top of the stairs leading back to the main floor, _'Has to be. It would explain why she couldn't tell me anything – if she did, he must've been ordered to take me out. But why? And by who?_

He remained stunned at the revelation about the man he thought was Morgan. It was hard for him to believe that he had fallen into his trap so easily. He had almost reached the vendor's booth in the center of the room when Smith appeared at the bottom of the stairs. At first Shepard was confused, but then he noted the look of terror on her face and the assassin appeared behind her.

'_Close enough to hold her at gunpoint,_' he noted.

He approached them with the prototype gun ready. As he closed in, Smith mouthed the word "gun" to Shepard and her eyes motioned at the assassin's left hand which was hidden behind her back. Not needing more confirmation than that, he paused a few feet from them.

"Let her go," he demanded.

The assassin sneered. "Why would I do that? She's my leverage. I knew you'd gotten wise to me when you had us split up."

Shepard raised his gun at the assassin – and was met with laughter.

"Go ahead and use that, Shepard. I hope you don't mind electrocuting the both of us though." He pulled Smith closer to him.

Realizing the truth in his words, Shepard cursed under his breath and lowered the weapon. Smith's eyes went wild as she misinterpreted his actions. She thought he had given up. Before Shepard could register her change in expression she slammed her head back, making impact with Morgan's nose. She snatched the prototype from Shepard's hands then turned and fired at the assassin. Volts of electricity leaped from the weapon, but they didn't head toward the assassin. Instead, they surrounded the gun itself and sent waves of electricity up Smith's arm. It wasn't enough to kill her, but it was still powerful enough to incapacitate. She cried out in pain and fell to the floor. Before she had even hit the ground, the assassin was running in the direction of what used to be Chora's Den.

Shepard quickly kneeled down to check on Smith. She was hurt, but conscious.

"I'll be okay," she said weakly. "Just shoot that bastard for me."

He nodded once and got to his feet withdrawing his pistol as he watched the assassin disappear through the door. He ran after him with only one thing on his mind.

-------------------

The assassin passed through the doors of the abandoned night club and immediately saw the body of a woman on the ground about 20 feet away. Cautiously he approached her with his pistol drawn when a voice interrupted him from the path to his right.

"You were supposed to take care of Shepard and _then_ meet me here for your payment," the voice said coldly.

The assassin opened his mouth in protest as he started to turn, but he was interrupted by the pistol shot that tore through his throat. Choking on his own blood, he brought his hands to his neck in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. He heard footsteps as he fell to his knees, but he was too weak to turn and face his executioner.

"Here's your payment," the voice said.

The assassin felt something cold and hard press against his temple.

"…With interest."

He never heard the second gunshot.


	16. Chapter 16

Shepard raced through the back alleys of the Wards as a loud gunshot echoed through the air. He raced towards its origin, stopping when he found himself standing in front of the remnants of Chora's Den. It had been active recently, he noticed – multiple footsteps left their marks in the disturbed dust that covered the ground. He brought his pistol up – and slowly made his way inside.

A small shock appeared on his face when he came across a body – it was Morgan, or the man who pretended to be Morgan. Blood was oozing out of his skull, and a small puddle of blood circled his head. Shepard winced a little when he also noticed the hole in his throat.

He shook his head slightly, and it was then that his eyes finally gazed upon the form that was shaking violently on the other side of the club. Shepard inhaled sharply when he recognized the stark white Cerberus uniform.

He raced desperately over to Miranda, mustering all the urgency his body could gather. Panic filled his every pore as time seemed to slow down. Every step felt like an eternity – and the longer he watched her body shake and convulse, the more fear began to overtake him. She was only 20 feet away, but it felt like a lifetime.

When he reached her side, he realized just how bad the situation was. Blood trickled slowly from her mouth, her spasms having caused her to bite her tongue. As he cupped her head and brought it up into his lap, Shepard's face filled with horror as his hands felt the layer of caked blood in her hair. He hugged her tightly, trying to prevent her seizures from hurting her any further.

After a moment, he finally removed his eyes from the atrocity taking place in his arms and met her gaze with his own. His eyes burned with tears as he noticed the fire in her bright blue orbs was nearly extinguished. A strained cry escaped her throat as she tried to talk, but Shepard gently hushed her.

"Don't worry," he choked out, "I'm going to get you out of here. Just stay with me, Miranda – don't give up on me." He rose to his feet with her cradled in his arms.

He thought he felt her deliberately squeeze his arm – but with one final look at him, her body went limp. For a brief moment, Shepard's heart stopped. He couldn't lose this woman, he couldn't. His hand frantically began looking for a pulse – and relief swept over him when he found it.

She was still alive - she had only passed out from the pain. As he raced out of the club, Smith reappeared, her face turning to shock when she realized who was in his arms.

"Smith," he yelled, "pull yourself together and radio Joker. Tell him we're coming – and have him warn Mordin!"

Smith nodded quickly in acknowledgment, sending her hand up to her radio as soon as he finished the order. They were both dashing through the crowds, pushing aside people without hesitation. As Shepard ran – pushing his body to its absolute limits - his muscles burned and his legs were numb from exhaustion – but he didn't stop. When the shuttle they had brought here finally came into view, Shepard kicked open the door – gently placed Miranda on the seat behind him – and barely gave Smith enough time to put a leg inside when he accelerated into traffic and up to the docks.

* * *

The Agent watched Shepard leave with Miranda's body – he had contemplated killing them both right then and there, but had ultimately decided against it. He knew he couldn't beat Shepard in a shoot out – but what better way to weaken him than have him watch the woman of his dreams die before his very eyes.

The salarian laughed as he flipped the OSD through the air, victory being resounded by the sound of the disk spinning. He caught it easily in his palm, and placed it inside his jacket's pocket before walking into another dark alley of the Wards.

"One day, Shepard… One day…"

* * *

Joker and Mordin were waiting at the airlock when Shepard brought the shuttle to the lurching stop on the docks. He pushed open his door violently, forsaking any respect for the shuttle as he picked Miranda up again.

Mordin was already analyzing her before she was even inside, "Blood loss – substantial. Neural damage likely," he took a deep breath, "Difficult."

Shepard ignored him as he rushed past the decontamination chambers and into the science bay, laying Miranda down gently onto the table as Mordin brought a table of medical tools next to him. Shepard hadn't noticed that Miranda had opened her eyes, and when he did he immediately leaned over her – his eyes darting all across her face.

"Relax, Miranda – everything will be alright, I promise," he choked out. He could tell she was terrified, her eyes gave away everything. But he squeezed her hand, and reiterated his promise, "Everything will be alright."

She gave him a small smile before her eyes rolled back into her head – going limp once more.

He tried to keep his composure as Mordin continued scanning her, but as he looked down to inspect the woman he loved – he found it more difficult than he originally thought. Her pale skin was washed out and colorless – a visual proof that her life was being drained right out of her. The usually perfectly applied mascara was caked around her eyes – black stains trailed her cheeks. Her lips were stained with her own blood, the result of her spasms causing her to bite her tongue.

Growing increasingly worried by the second, Shepard finally looked up at Mordin, "Well?"

Mordin continued scanning, any awareness that Shepard was also in the room wasn't evident. He turned towards the medical table, his arms moving frantically. His body blocked Shepard's view, but when Mordin turned around a few seconds later – laying a syringe on the table – he got an answer that didn't exactly comfort him.

"Success not likely. Must neutralize poison before we treat other wounds."

Shepard's eyes shot up, "What do you mean success not likely?"

Mordin turned around again, this time producing a small vial with a neon blue substance floating around in it. He picked up the syringe in the other hand, and with care, punctured the vial and began extracting the fluid.

"Shepard, should know – side effects possible."

"What kind of side effects?" He asked, eyeing the vial cautiously.

Mordin withdrew the needle, set the vial on the medical table, and stared at Shepard, "Respiratory failure, cerebral hemorrhaging. Worst case scenario…"

He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly, "Death."

Shepard held his breath as he considered what Mordin set. His eyes were focused on the needle when he felt the slightest pressure in his hands. Looking down, he saw that Miranda was conscious once more.

"Shepard…" she barely made out, her voice gargled and barely audible. He gently hushed her as he brought his hand to her face.

"It's okay," he whispered, trying to maintain a strong front, "You're going to be okay."

Her eyes moved to the needled still in Mordin's hands. They stayed there for a second before she moved to meet Mordin's gaze.

"Do it," she mouthed to the scientist.

Mordin took another breath and sent the needle into her arm, slowly pushing the fluids into her system.

Her eyes returned to Shepard, a smile crept on her face. He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead.

Mordin nodded in approval, "Signs good. Can only wait now – see how body reacts."

Miranda started to nod when her body tensed – and a small cry of agony escaped her lips. She began grasping for breath – her eyes locked on Shepard, pleading with him to make it stop. Her body then began to shake, slightly at first – and then it progressed to how it was when Shepard first found her.

"Not good, not good," Mordin muttered as he turned his eyes to the medical station, trying to find something to stop the seizures.

Shepard tried to hold her as she thrashed violently in his arms, he knew there was nothing he could do and that thought made him feel more powerless than ever.

"Mordin! Do something!" Shepard yelled at the salarian.

"Nothing I can do – antidote failed."

It was then that the sounds of her vital machines echoed the tone that sent shivers down Shepard's spine.

His eyes returned to Miranda, only to find that the spark he had loved so much was gone. Her thrashing subsided as her body went limp in his eyes. Her grayish-blue eyes were empty. Her vitals had flat-lined, and the sound of the continuous bleep filled Shepard's ears.

Mordin checked his machines – the results dissatisfying him. He turned and moved to Miranda, loosening Shepard's hold on her enough that he could check for a pulse. Shaking his head, he looked up at Shepard, his gaze met with a blank stare.

Mordin rested a hand on his shoulder, "Shepard. I apologize." He took another deep breath, and walked towards the door, "I'll leave you be."

Shepard rested the body back down on the table. They had been together – and happy – just over 24 hours ago. He could still taste her lips from the night they spent together… the sound of her laugh and the way she smiled at him.

'_She can't be gone.'_

He fell to his knees, taking hold of her right hand in both of his – his walls breaking down as tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

During a time when revenge would have normally been the first thing on his mind, Shepard struggled to think of anything else but Miranda Lawson, whom he had loved fiercely – and lost the same.

_**To be continued….**_


End file.
